It is good to see You
flying there in the abundance of crimson and gold,
...
The crow flaps its dark wings up there,
hungryor death,
...
There is such a silence in the Vienna Opera
That you can hear even the quietest of Mozart's notes,
As if the city's elite has found its shepherd.
You can't hear the quietest of voices, just humble silence
...
Like a straw man,
Hunted by gusts of wind
(in order to outrun death) ,
I am returning to the valley of my childhood;
...
How many wishes and hopes pass through a man's mind?
This is what I am thinking about while looking
...
Up above, Tchaikovsky's fluting notes are dancing,
And the empty paper waits for the first verse to be born.
While the screaming wind beats against the old window,
My thoughts are endlessly straying,
...
While the crystal clear rain is pouring,
I am sitting on an old park bench,
Careless about the purity
Given to me by the skies.
...
I am going! ... I am leaving you, world!
How horrible this admission echoes
...
Against the old oak I cling my cheek
to hear a lost voice inside;
The voice of a lost friend,
the voice of my lost father and mother,
the voice of lost love.
...
If I had to lie down
Onto the black hearse instead of our love,
I would agree to die right away,
But hope is the last thing to die,
...